Letter from Mr. James Bennet to Miss Jane Bennet
April 13th, 1812
My Dear Jane,
I just learned from your mother that she has ordered you to marry either in London or, in the unlikely event that you can obtain a special license, at Rockhill Hall itself.
I officially countermand that command, dear girl. If you wish to marry in Meryton, I hope you will do so. On the other hand, if you would prefer a quiet wedding in London, that would be entirely acceptable as well.
I do not believe the locale of your wedding is as important as your bridegroom, and in Mr. Bingley you have chosen a very fine young man. He is a gentle soul, but based on his firm handling of his sisters, I have every reason to believe that he will love, honor, and protect you as you deserve. I have no gift for pretty speeches, but you have been much loved since the moment you were first laid in my arms, and I confess that I have a tear in my eye as I pen these words. But I could not release you to a better man.
Now Jane, I do not wish you to worry about what I will tell you next. I foolishly slipped on the stairs a few days ago and broke my leg. It is not a very serious injury, but I am currently confined to a bed in the parlor, though I occasionally hobble, with help from Hill, into the library. Mr. Jones has splinted the leg in a satisfactory manner and assures me it will heal well, but regardless of where you marry, I will not be able to attend. I regret this, but I would not advise waiting months for me to be entirely mobile again.
I fear that this news will incite a desire in either you or Elizabeth to rush home to look after me. Please do not do so. Except for the pain of the injury, I am quite content sitting at home in a quiet Longbourn. Of course, Lydia makes as much noise as the rest of you combined, but still, that means the noise is but half of what it normally is.
Fondly,
Your clumsy father
/
Longbourn
The sitting room at Longbourn had been refurbished the previous year and was currently Mrs. Bennet's favorite room in the house. Furthermore, the weather on this April day was wonderful, which meant that Mrs. Bennet was neither too hot nor too cold. With her eldest daughter engaged to a wealthy and generous man, the mistress of Longbourn should have been entirely happy. Regrettably, her youngest child was kicking up a fuss, which was diminished the lady's contentment considerably.
"But I want to go to London!" Lydia whined indignantly. "It is not fair that my sisters will be at Jane's wedding, and I will not."
"We cannot go," Mrs. Bennet insisted. "Your father's leg is broken, Lydia. He is quite unable to travel to London."
"He can stay behind! It is not as if Father likes London anyway. You know that our Uncle and Aunt Gardiner would be glad to host us! We could go shopping at Oxford Street, and catch a show at the Little Theater. Oh, Mamma, I am so bored here at Longbourn!"
"Then you should have gone with your sisters to Rockhill, Lydia! You were encouraged to go and you refused!"
"But why can we not attend Jane's wedding? It will be at least a week or two from now since Mr. Bingley needs to finalize the marriage settlements. There is plenty of time to make the arrangements."
"Because if we go," Mrs. Bennet explained patiently, "one or more of the girls will likely insist that they travel back to Longbourn with us from London. You have two new cousins who are potential husbands, Lydia, one of whom is an earl. Your older sisters must stay at Rockhill!"
"But Mamma, with Jane married well, there is no longer such a need for the rest of us to find husbands!"
"No!" Mrs. Bennet screeched, rising to her feet and glowering up into the face of her tallest daughter. "No, Lydia! Yes, it is very good that Jane will marry Mr. Bingley, but what if he dies? Jane's marriage portion will be generous, but not enough to support us all with ease! No, if I can only have two or three of my daughters well married, then I will be content!"
/
Meryton
The birds were chirping happily, and the cows were lowing cheerfully in the fields nearby. Even the trees and flowers seemed joyful on this April morning.
Lydia Bennet, however, was quite indifferent to nature's beauties, as was the man walking at her side on the dusty road which led to Longbourn.
"It is not fair, Mr. Wickham," Lydia grumbled. "My sisters are enjoying themselves with our new cousins and I am stuck here in Meryton!"
George Wickham turned a sympathetic, if spurious, gaze on his walking companion. He had targeted Miss Lydia as a likely source of money and thus had made a point of looking for her the last few days. Since she often visited Meryton, he had 'accidentally' crossed her path several times, and always offered to walk her home.
Wickham knew that he needed to flee Meryton, and soon. He had surreptitiously checked around, and all of his debts in the taverns and shops had been paid by a red-haired man in his early thirties. The man had never given a name and thus Wickham did not know his true identity.
The only explanation for an unknown agent paying his encumbrances was that someone was preparing to lodge a complaint of unpaid debt against him. Wickham had more than a few enemies, definitely – Darcy, for one, though he would not move boldly against Wickham for fear that his precious Georgiana's reputation would be damaged – but there were others too. He had cheated men out of money and seduced the daughters of storekeepers and tradesmen everywhere he went. Someone with money was obviously moving against him with the goal of tossing him into debtors' prison.
Marshalsea and King's Bench were death traps! He must flee before he could be arrested!
But he also needed money. He owed his fellow officers for substantial gambling debts and while he had no intention of paying said debts, it was unlikely any of them was willing to lend him additional money.
The Lucas family had an unmarried daughter named Maria, a simple girl who had responded well to his charming speech and manners; however, Sir William and Lady Lucas were more attentive than Mr. and Mrs. Bennet. Miss Lucas was never permitted to roam the countryside alone as was Miss Lydia Bennet.
"It is indeed unfair," Wickham commented, his tone oozing with sympathy. "You are such a lovely young lady and you deserve to shine with the rest of your sisters at Miss Bennet's wedding."
"I am beautiful, am I not, Mr. Wickham?" Lydia inquired with a flirtatious glance, and then her expression soured. "Everyone says Jane and Lizzy are even more beautiful, though."
"They are both lovely ladies," Wickham said tenderly, "but you combine great beauty with a liveliness of mind and spirit that is magnetic to a man like myself."
Lydia flushed in delighted surprise, her already handsome face glowing in the afternoon sunlight. "Truly, Mr. Wickham? You truly admire me?"
"I fear I cannot adequately express ...," Wickham began, then trailed off dramatically.
She stopped in the road to face him, her eyes hopeful. "Please continue, sir."
"I have admired you since the moment I first laid eyes on you, Miss Lydia," he said, gallantly lifting her hand to his lips.
"But I thought you liked Lizzy!" the girl cried out. "You always sat with her, and talked with her!"
"I ... I fear that since you are very young, that you would have no interest in an old lieutenant like myself, Miss Lydia."
"Oh, Mr. Wickham, I have loved you since the day I saw you," Lydia breathed, her heart beating faster. "Indeed, you are the most handsome, most charming, most remarkable man I have ever met!"
"Oh, Miss Lydia," Wickham cried out, flaring his eyes wide, "are you ... do you ... are you able to trust me with your life? Miss Lydia Bennet, will you marry me?"
The resulting squeal of delight almost burst Wickham's eardrums, and the scoundrel had to use his considerable strength of will to school his expression into one of tenderness.
"Oh, Mr. Wickham, yes, yes!"
Wickham began walking toward Longbourn again, his expression thoughtful, "Miss Lydia?"
"Yes?" she asked, beaming up into his face.
"I understand your father recently was injured?"
"Yes. He broke his leg, which was quite foolish. I have never broken my leg, after all!"
"I ... my dear Lydia, do you trust me enough to elope to Scotland? I am thinking with your father's injury and your mother focused on Miss Bennet's wedding, that it would be kind of us ..."
"Oh yes, yes!" Lydia interrupted enthusiastically. "If we hurry to Scotland, I will be married first of all my sisters! What a joke that would be!"
Wickham turned to face her, his straight teeth gleaming in the afternoon sunlight, his red coat showing off his fine figure. "My dear, beloved Lydia, we must make plans then. I have very little money at present, though I have a friend in London who owes me a substantial sum. Do you – I hate to ask – do you have any money we could use to hire a carriage?"
Lydia shook her head sadly and confessed, "No, I spent all of my allowance and I will not receive any more pocket money for a full week. Indeed, in a week there will be quite a bit of money in the house and I could borrow some extra, though we would need to pay it back. Perhaps we should wait until then?"
Wickham hesitated briefly. On the one hand, he hated the thought of waiting a full week to flee, just in case his unknown adversary appeared with the receipts for his debts. On the other, Lydia would doubtless be willing to steal a substantial sum from Longbourn, which would prove very useful. Of course, he had no intention of actually marrying the girl, but once they were in London, ostensibly to collect money from a non-existent friend, he could abandon her with ease. She was at least a pretty thing, and would provide a pleasant bedfellow until he tired of her.
He had a silver tongue. Even if he were arrested for debt, he was confident that he would be able to talk his way out of jail long enough to flee with Lydia Bennet.
"I hate every day that keeps us apart," he declared, "but yes, we will wait. I will be counting the hours, my love. Remember, this has to be a secret. We want to surprise your parents and sisters."
Lydia giggled in manic delight. "I promise that I will keep it a secret, dear Wickham. Oh, soon I will be Mrs. Wickham! How well it sounds! And to be married the first of all my sisters! You have made me so happy!"
/
Rockhill Hall
Late April
Sunlight brightened the scene within the greenhouse with warm tranquility and poured over the shoulders of Ruth Gardiner, posed demurely in a peach dress with a delicate bouquet of pale yellow roses in her hands. Some feet away, her sister Rebekah and cousin Kitty sat at easels, armed with paints and brushes.
Around them sat a few bedraggled or overgrown plants, abandoned when the estate's gardeners left during the upheaval between masters for more gainful employment. But the greenhouse itself was in good condition, a pet project of the previous Lord Chartham, the glass clean and unbroken permitted a lovely view of the house to the north and the fields roundabout. It had been given to the ladies of the house for an art studio, and it was fulfilling this role admirably.
"Is something wrong, Cousin Kitty?"
Kitty Bennet jerked in surprise and turned to face Rebekah Hamilton, who was seated nearby, paintbrush in hand.
"No, no," Kitty stammered. "I am sorry. I am afraid my attention was wandering. What were you saying about painting Ruth's hands?"
Ruth Gardiner carefully set aside her roses, hopped to her feet, and walked closer to Kitty, "Dear Kitty, both Rebekah and I have noticed something is wrong. You have been quiet and upset for a full day now. We have not known you long, but it is obvious that you are distressed. Would it help to talk to us? I know we are not your sisters, but we are your cousins and we care about you."
Kitty hesitated, her eyes filling with tears. She wanted to talk to someone but Lydia had ordered her not to tell anyone - she just did not know what to do.
Slowly, she pulled the letter out of her dress. Lydia had specifically mentioned her sisters, not her cousins, after all.
"My sister Lydia," she began, and hesitated.
Rebekah smiled at her and commented, "Oh, little sisters. They can be quite exasperating, can they not?"
"I resent that!" Ruth cried out with false indignation.
Kitty stared at the letter in her hand for a few more seconds, then quickly handed it to her elder cousin. "Please, Rebekah, read this," she pleased. "I just do not know ... it seems ... please, read it! It sounds so romantic, but yet, I fear that perhaps, oh I do not know!"
Rebekah frowned, her inner concern about reading a private letter warring with the anxiety on Kitty's face.
Finally, she unfolded it and read the short letter.
April 21th, 1812
Dear Kitty,
I am to be married before Jane! This is a tremendous secret so you must not tell anyone. Indeed, if you tell Jane or Elizabeth or boring, moralizing Mary, I will never forgive you! Mr. Wickham asked me to marry him! We are off to Scotland soon and I will be married even before Jane.
Oh Kitty, I never knew I could be so lucky. He is the most handsome man in all of England and he wants me to be his wife. When he asked me to marry him, oh Kitty, the look on his face, the tenderness in his eyes. I am the most fortunate girl in the world!
Perhaps we will be able to return from Scotland to London in time to attend Jane's wedding, which would be such a joke!
I am sure you are even sadder now that you went to Rockhill; just think, if you had stayed in Hertfordshire, perhaps you too would have won an officer in a red coat, though probably not. You are not as handsome and lively as I am.
With joy,
Lydia
/
The door to the study opened and Aaron Gardiner, who was reading through a letter from his man of business in London, lifted his head.
"Good morning, my dears," he began and then, at the sight of his daughters anxious faces, rose unconsciously to his feet.
"What is it?" he demanded urgently.
Rebekah handed the letter from Lydia Bennet to her father. "Please read this sir, immediately. I fear it is an emergency."
/
/
Author Note: If you're interested, "The Banished Uncle: Expanded Edition" is now available for pre-order on Amazon. Cheers! :-)